


Once More, With Feeling

by Luthien



Series: Luthien Does Writer's Month 2019 [11]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Australia, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Australia, F/M, Holiday Fling, holiday romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 16:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20245600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthien/pseuds/Luthien
Summary: Jaime and Brienne take a long time to get up the next morning.Fill for Writer's Month 2019 Day 13: feelings





	Once More, With Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm back! Sorry for the delay. I had a little bit of a health crash earlier in the week, but I'm back up and running now.
> 
> You might remember that the next prompt was supposed to be 'whump'. This fic was originally meant to be the beginning of the whump fic, but it ended up getting so long and unwieldy that I decided that this first bit would work better by itself as the fill for Day 13 - feelings. So that's what I've done.
> 
> The next one should be along tomorrow, and that one will definitely include a whump!
> 
> **ETA: I just realized that this story brings the total number of words that I have written for these two since the end of May to 101,550. I have cracked 100,000 words in less than three months! Thanks to everyone who has left comments and kudos along the way. JB people rock!**
> 
> Thank you to Telanu for the beta!

Somewhere around dawn they made love again, slow and sleepy to begin with, as one first, tentative touch led to another and then another, and soft hitches of breath turned into moans, until there was nothing slow or sleepy about any of it. They collapsed back onto the mattress together, after, not speaking, or at least not in words. All the tension had gone out of both of them. Brienne curled along his side, tangling his leg between both of hers and tucking her head under his chin. Jaime reached up to stroke her hair and felt her relax against him even more, if that was possible. He could almost hear her purr as her breathing turned deep and regular and...

There was bright light streaming in through the open bedroom door when Jaime opened his eyes again. This time, he woke to soft, exploratory touches of hands and mouth on his skin, moving up his inner thigh before detouring along the slight rise of his hip to his stomach. He didn't say anything, but perhaps his breath caught, despite his best efforts, when Brienne rubbed her nose back and forth against the line of hair trailing down from his navel, because she glanced up with heavy-lidded eyes and found him watching her. She looked a little self-conscious, as if she'd been sprung doing something a tiny bit naughty, like taking an extra piece of chocolate cake.

Jaime smiled lazily. "Don't let me interrupt you," he said, and arched his back into a long, satisfying stretch, muscles bunching and then relaxing again as his head pressed back into the pillow. 

Brienne took him at his word, because she didn't stop—and didn't stop and didn't stop—until her mouth was finally, _finally_ on his cock, all warm and wet and a little bit clumsy, as if it wasn't something she'd done often. He tried to keep it all in his head, to stop everything from being over way too soon, but then her hand slipped up to clutch his arse, _hard_, her strong fingers digging into him again and again, matching the rhythm of her mouth on him, and he cried out and _forgot,_ forgot everything but those twin points of sensation. His fingers tangled in her pale blonde hair and, _I'm yours_, he thought. _Yours, yours, yours, y-_

His climax seized him and broke over him like a wave, taking him with it and washing him up on shore.

He drifted, but not for long. "Sorry," he said, as he opened his eyes and found Brienne watching him across the pillow.

"What for?" she asked. 

"That wasn't very… gentlemanly," he said, and was surprised when she burst out laughing. He'd hardly seen her laugh at all in the almost-a-day-going-on-forever that he'd known her. It transformed her face, lifting the little tell-tale signs of strain around the edges and leaving her looking carefree. And young. Younger than she probably was. Certainly younger than him. She was in her mid-twenties somewhere, if he had to guess.

"I liked it," she said, ducking her head against his shoulder. "I liked that _you_ liked it… so much."

He lifted his head and pushed himself up against the pillow, bringing her with him, kissing her, tasting himself on her lips and in her mouth. "Sit back against the pillow," he said. "Let me…"

Brienne complied and then he was kissing her again, kissing her hard as his hand found her nether lips, sought for and discovered the slickness inside, slipped up and along and around and _down_. She jerked, gasping against his mouth, her hands clutching at him as she shuddered, and then relaxed back against the pillow, letting her head fall against his shoulder as she sighed into his skin.

She'd been right on the edge. Just from what she'd done to him. He'd barely touched her and he'd had her quaking in his arms.

He felt like… he didn't even know what. A king. A god. Or maybe a man. Just a man. The man that Brienne saw when she looked at him. 

He lifted his hand to stroke her hair, her ear, her cheek, just because he needed to feel her, needed that connection to continue and, God! It was crazy, it was ridiculous. He felt like he'd been held upside down and shaken out, and she was the cause of that but also the only thing anchoring him to the ground.

Then her hand was on his chest, stroking his skin in turn, and it felt like a circuit closing, the current humming between them, calming him.

After a while she lifted her head, and reached for her phone. "Oh!" she exclaimed.

"What?" Jaime asked, the tiniest bit of his calm deserting him.

"It's after ten o'clock. We must have missed breakfast."

He smiled, a smile with no calculation in it whatsoever. It came to his lips easily. "So? There's a million cafes in Byron. We won't starve. I promise."

Brienne refused to shower with him, which was disappointing, but he supposed she had a point when she said that she wanted to get breakfast before lunchtime. Jaime left her to it, and went off to shower and shave in the other bathroom.

He was back in the bedroom, half-dressed, when she came in from the bathroom, still towelling herself dry.

"Could you help me with my back?" Brienne asked, picking up the bottle of moisturiser from the bedside table.

"Of course," Jaime said, as she sat down on the bed and half-turned so that he could see her back.

Her skin was still pink, but not as angry a pink as it had been last night, and the first hints of peeling skin were showing around the edges. Brienne was lucky that yesterday hadn't been a really hot day. Otherwise, she could have ended up with a really bad case of sunburn, like the ones he'd had a few times as a boy. He smiled as he squeezed some moisturiser into the palm of his hand and started applying it in slow, circular motions to Brienne's back. 

Jaime had spent a lot of his boyhood summers here on the north coast, back when the whole family used to make the trip up to Casterly Rock from Sydney as soon as school finished for the year in mid-December. He'd be in the water the moment he got there, running around the beach most of the day, his father and Uncle Kevan discussing whatever it was they used to discuss in those days—business, probably, but maybe how Australia was doing in the cricket as well—while they kept a weather eye on the various Lannister children. Jaime would always inevitably forget to apply more sunscreen after the first lot had been washed off in the surf. He'd come home as evening closed in, as the burn started to make its presence known, and his mother would shake her head at him. But then she'd make him take a cold bath before she rubbed lotion into his skin. He remembered those times as much for the feel of her caring touch as for the heat and sting of his sunburnt skin.

He'd had some really terrible sunburns several summers in a row, the sort where he wound up stuck in the rumpus room doing jigsaw puzzles, because at least he had to lean forward and not rest his back against anything while he was doing those, while his mother kept him out of the sun for the day. Eventually, he grew a little older and also grew enough of a brain to know that he didn't want to go through that again, but by then it didn't really matter, since his mother was gone, and his father didn't seem to care one way or the other if his children were in the water or at home watching TV.

"Are you done?" Brienne asked, and Jaime realised with a start that his hands had gone still on her back.

"Nearly," he said hurriedly, and would have started massaging the moisturiser into her back again, except that she shifted so that she could look at him.

"What?" she said. There was no impatience or irritation or anything harsh colouring her voice or showing in her features. If anything, she looked very slightly concerned. How could she know? But then, how could he know her so well so soon, or feel as if he did? He shouldn't be surprised that that feeling of connection worked the other way.

At least, he could hope that it did.

"Nothing," he said. "Just memories." And when Brienne's gaze remained steady on him, steady and steadfast, somehow, he added. "My mother. She died when I was young."

"Oh." She bit her lip. "Mine did too, but I was so young I don't remember her at all. I've lost other people, though. People equally as close. I know what it's like when the memories just sort of pounce when you're not ready for them. I'm sorry." She took his hand and clasped it against her cheek, and then he was kissing her, softly and gently, before he even realised he intended to.

Jaime finished moisturising Brienne's back, and then turned her around to do her face with as much brisk efficiency as he could muster, not letting his mind wander back to years past, and most especially not to what had happened right after he'd done this last night. He got up and finished dressing the moment the job was done, and went out into the living room to stare out at the sea. He did that a lot when he was here. At home, he had a view of Sydney Harbour that was almost impossible to beat, but there was nothing quite like looking out at proper waves.

Brienne emerged from the bedroom a little while later, wearing a short-sleeved purple dress made out of some sort of light, floaty material, and carrying her bag and the huge sunhat she'd bought yesterday. She'd applied a little make-up, he thought, to calm some of the colour in her face. The dress had a modest, round neckline and was high at the back, covering the worst of her sunburn. Jaime wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he was glad that Brienne was no longer wearing clothes from an op shop, and the colour of the fabric drew his attention to her eyes—not that they needed much help with that, at least so far as Jaime was concerned—but he missed seeing her skin, even when it was glowing pink. He wondered what she'd look like in blue, maybe something floor-length and cut dramatically low at front and back, with a long slit at the side to show off her glorious legs.

"Ready to go?" she asked, with a tiny edge to her voice, and Jaime realised that she was watching him watch her. Watching him, and wondering what he saw in her, probably. She wasn't conventionally beautiful, or a conventional height, and probably the world had been cruel to her because of that. Cruel and stupid, if it could look at Brienne and find her lacking.

Jaime held up his car keys in answer to her question. He still had six days to get her used to the idea that he appreciated the way she looked as much as he appreciated everything else about her, and he intended to make the most of them. He would do his best to make this week the most memorable of Brienne's life. So memorable, that maybe she wouldn't want to consign it to memory once the week was up.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued tomorrow with the Day 11 prompt: whump


End file.
